The Gumbie Cat
by VergofTowels
Summary: Arthur and Eames visit Robert in his apartment and get themselves into trouble.  Sequel to A Horrible Muddle.  Set in the world of the musical CATS.  Arthur/Eames
1. Chapter 1

Somehow, this is turning into a 'verse. :) This is a direct sequel to A Horrible Muddle, so if you haven't read that, you should.

Disclaimer: I do not own Inception!

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Arthur hopped off the bus, brushing by the legs of the human passengers with ease. Eames followed him down onto the sidewalk and then they both shot under the bushes outside the bank, worming their way between the low branches until they were invisible from outside. Arthur crouched, taking in and categorizing the scents of damp earth, pigeon, and… mole? He frowned and put his nose closer to the ground. It was odd for a mole to be living in such an urban environment. In fact, Arthur hadn't smelled mole since his brief stint in suburbia, his mother explaining the world to him as he wobbled about the garden. He could only barely remember her voice now, but the scents had stayed vivid.

"Eames," he said, tailing swishing. "There's a _mole_ here. A _mole._"

"Focus, darling," Eames chuckled, his own attention on the shoes passing by. His ears were swerving back and forth with all the noise. "Robert's house is only a block from here, and as soon as the bus leaves, we can go." There were, as of the moment, too many humans roaming around. Eames tended to get nervous when that happened.

"Right." Arthur didn't tell Eames that he already knew where the apartment was, having scoped the place months earlier in his frustration. He didn't want Eames to know he was that pathetic. "How are we going to get in?"

"Just watch and learn, Arthur," Eames said slyly and Arthur sighed. "Let's go."

-aaa-

Robert lived on the seventh floor of a redbrick building a little south of downtown. As buildings went, it was fairly boring, its only ornamentation being the graying flat arches over the windows and the belt-courses between stories. It was fortunate, however, that the belt-courses projected far enough to create a ridge wide enough for a cat to walk on. Eames and Arthur circled to the back of the building, leapt onto the Dumpster, and then onto the fire escape. It was tricky but not impossible to reach the ridge from there and soon the two were standing outside a partially-open window by the right front corner of the building.

"This is where you get in?" Arthur asked. "Doesn't the family notice you?"

"Nope," Eames said, preparing to leap to the sill. "Be careful, here. I don't want you to fall."

"Please, Eames," Arthur said drily. "I haven't fallen off of anything since I was a kitten." He watched as Eames jumped and wiggled his way under the frame, vanishing behind a lacy white curtain. He calculated the trajectory of his own jump perfectly and was soon inside himself, standing on a gray stone counter. He and Eames were in the apartment's bathroom, apparently. The whole place smelled like soap and cologne. Arthur sneezed at the strength of it, the citrus stinging his nose.

"Sorry about that, should have warned you," Eames said. He gave the room a once-over and then relaxed, bestowing upon his paw a quick lick. "Robert's probably in the den." He walked to the edge of the counter and plopped to the floor. Arthur spent a second or two investigating the sink before following, landing silently on the tile.

The bathroom opened up to the kitchen, Eames sauntering in as if he owned the place. The lights were off, so it wasn't as bright as Arthur had expected. Nonetheless, he didn't think he'd ever seen a room so white. The walls were white, the floor was white, the countertops were white… The room was also filled with the glorious aroma of foods of all kinds. Arthur was most interested in the undercurrent of salmon and the faint whiff of cheese. Arthur loved cheese. He loved its taste, loved its texture. He even liked the fake stuff that they sprayed chips with for flavoring. Sometimes Cobb's children had Doritos with their lunch. Arthur was always delighted when that happened.

"Come on, darling, we don't have all day," said Eames, watching Arthur nose his way around the cabinets.

"You said they wouldn't be back until dark," Arthur replied reproachfully, loathe to leave such a fascinating place.

"I said they _probably_ wouldn't." Eames gave him a look and Arthur huffed but accompanied him into the den. The carpet under his feet was much softer than the one at the library and he imagined taking a nap on it.

"Robert," Eames meowed softly, staying close to the wall as he made his way around the room. "Are you in here? I brought Arthur with me this time. I know you wanted to meet him."

There was a rustle by the corner and a sleek brown head poked out of a wicker basket. Robert's face was thin and angular, his ears pointed. He had startlingly blue eyes. Arthur felt a stab of jealousy even though he and Eames had reaffirmed their relationship, emotionally and physically. Several times. He hung back while Eames bounded ahead.

"There you are!" Eames stopped beside the basket and waited for Robert to stand and stretch before batting him playfully on the shoulder.

"Eames," Robert purred happily. He climbed out of his bed and butted his head against Eames's. Arthur looked away, pretending to be engrossed in the furniture. "And you must be Arthur." He blinked, suddenly nervous as well. "Eames… He talks about you a lot."

"He does?" Arthur shot the cat in question a suspicious glance but Eames just started purring, apparently sincerely.

"He does," Robert said, and he stepped forward. Arthur, more hesitantly, met him, and they circled each other curiously. Robert's coat was sleek, almost glossy, and he was well-fed. Arthur couldn't see even a hint of rib. He looked like a cat in a magazine. He looked like he was living the high life. Arthur almost dismissed him right there, but then he realized- And he froze.

"They…" his ears slipped back, "What did they do to you?" He had been wondering why the apartment hadn't felt lived-in. Robert, obviously, hadn't properly marked it.

"It doesn't bother me anymore," Robert said, though he did look embarrassed. "I was young. I don't even remember." His tail started to twitch and Arthur dropped the subject, glad enough to get away from it.

"Well, I'm glad to meet you," Arthur said, allowing Robert to headbutt him, too. The housecat seemed to crave attention in the way Arthur usually craved food, and when Eames was so clearly fond of him he had no reason to object.

"Yes, me too," Robert said.

"Good, you get along," Eames chirped, and walked to stand between them. "So, Robert, what's new?"

"Not a lot." He sat down and Eames joined him. Arthur, after a few minutes of listening to them chat about the family and the house, left to explore. When he returned from chasing one of Robert's ubiquitous toys under the bed (because he _could_, not because he _had_ to…) an hour later, Eames was just finishing.

"…And don't fall outside again," Eames admonished. "It was a miracle that that cart was there at all."

"I know, I know." Robert sighed and tucked his paws under his chest. "I won't."

"Right. Oh, there you are darling. We should probably head back." The light slanting in from the window was turning golden. They needed to get back to the bus stop.

"Okay," Arthur said. He tapped Robert on the shoulder and then headed toward the kitchen.

"Thank you for coming," Robert purred, rubbing cheeks with Eames.

"I'm sure we'll be back," replied the tom, and he stood.

-aaa-

"You didn't tell me Robert had been cut," Arthur said abruptly as he and Eames boarded the bus, slinking to the back.

"You didn't ask," Eames said. He was twitchy, his ears flicking every which way, his fangs poking out. "And it's not something one brings up in polite company."

"Well, it would have been a comfort to know that that he wasn't sleeping with you," Arthur muttered. "That he _couldn't_ want to."

Eames glanced at him. "You were really worried about that, weren't you?"

"I wasted four months pining!" Arthur hissed before he could stop himself. His eyes widened and he lay his ears flat.

"You pined?" Eames purred for a breath in laughter. Then he rubbed his cheek along Arthur's side.

"Shut up, Eames," Arthur gritted out, riding the rest of the way back to the junkyard in silence.

-aaa-

The two of them did go back to Robert's apartment, at least once a week, for the next three months. The winter was now in full swing, with six or seven inches of snow on the ground and temperatures reaching fifteen below. Even only a few hours in the warm living room, napping under the Christmas tree and on top of the presents, was a welcome respite from the chill. It was getting harder to visit, though, as the window was only infrequently left open. Sometimes they were able to lever it open when they found it cracked. More than once they climbed up the icy wall only to see it shut tight against the wind.

"I'm beginning to think living in a house isn't so bad," Arthur confided one evening, nestled with Robert inside his wicker basket. The two of them had grown fairly close over the weeks and Arthur found that Robert was actually quite pleasant company. Robert could read, too, and was quite interested in the economy. He was worried about the rising price of fish and the scarcity of tuna. He told Arthur that it kept him up at night.

"It is rather nice in the winter," Robert allowed, his eyes slipping shut. He made a small noise of protest as Arthur shifted and climbed out of the basket. "Where are you going?"

"For food," Arthur said. He paused on the plush carpet. "If that's okay?" Robert had been nothing but kind to him, but he still felt like he was imposing.

"Mm. Help yourself," Robert sighed sleepily.

"Thank you." Arthur padded off into the kitchen, heading for the plastic bowl by the corner. It was full at all hours with dry pellets which, when there was nothing else, tasted like heaven. All things considered, Arthur preferred fish, or chicken, but beggars – and that's what he was, wasn't it? – couldn't be choosers. He crunched on a mouthful, happily full for once, and looked around for Eames.

"Up here, darling," called Eames, and Arthur peered upward to see him sitting on the kitchen counter. He had one of the shiny balls from the Christmas tree up there with him and was absently rolling it between his paws.

"Eames," Arthur purred cheerfully. He took a sip of Robert's water and then leapt onto the countertop, sitting next to Eames and curling their tails together. "What are you doing all by yourself? You should come back to the basket. It's warm."

"In a bit," said the tom. He turned so that he was nose-to-nose with Arthur. Arthur felt the heat where their noses touched and felt a quickening in his belly. "Shall we take ourselves into the bedroom?"

"I would like that, yes."

They hopped down to the tile, landing lightly. Eames made sure that the ornament didn't come with them; if it was found broken, Robert would get the blame for it. Arthur led the way, determined despite the fact that Eames was playing with his tail. They were about halfway to the bedroom, paused in the mouth of the living room door, still entwined, when a sharp click resounded through the apartment. From the basket, Robert's head shot up, his eyes wide.

"They shouldn't be home yet," he said, tense. "Go! I'll keep them busy."

"-and to go and forget something like that… Make my life harder why don't you?" A woman hurried into the room, dressed in a voluminous fur coat and carrying an expensive purse. Her face was pinched in the human expression of displeasure. "What am I going to do with that- What the hell?"

"Mother!" mewled Robert, shooting out of his basket and attempting to wind himself about her ankles. "I am so glad you're home. I missed you and I love you and I want you never to go again and-"

"Shoo," she snapped, pushing him aside none-too-gently with her foot. Her eyes were riveted on the spot where she'd seen Arthur and Eames. She tossed her purse onto the couch and jogged into the kitchen.

"Eames, she's right behind us!" Arthur called, throwing caution to the wind. They were in the bathroom, so close to freedom, but Eames was only halfway out the window.

"I know, I know, but bloody hell if I'm not stuck…"

"You're _stuck?"_ Arthur's pupils thinned. He headbutted Eames. "Go, go!"

Mrs. Fischer threw open the door like it had wronged her and let out another screech. "How the _fuck_ did you get in here?"

"Eames!" cried Arthur, slipping off the counter as the angry lady of the house made a grab for him. He managed to avoid her kick, but ended up on the other side of the room from the window.

"I'm going, I'm going, it's going to be all right," muttered Eames, almost to himself. He shoved again with his back feet and gained another half-inch. "Fuck, fuck-"

He almost fell when the window was wrenched open.

"What-"

"Out!" shouted Mrs. Fischer. She grabbed Eames by the scruff of the neck and threw him out the window.

"Eames, no!" Arthur yowled, making a leap for the sill. He had just enough time to see Eames's paws slip from the ledge before a laundry basket was shoved down over him and he was trapped.

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Reviews make me happy! I'll try not to take too long with chapter two.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Inception!

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"I am so sorry about this…" Robert said again, but Arthur ignored him. He had already assured the other cat that it wasn't his fault. Right now he was more concerned about how he was going to get out from under his plastic cage and back outside where he could see if Eames was… Where he could see Eames.

"Can you push the box off the top of this thing?" Arthur asked, interrupting Robert's apologizing. Mrs. Fischer had stacked a box of heavy books on top of the laundry basket while she went into the other room.

"I can try," Robert said doubtfully, and started looking ashamed again. "I mean, I'll try right now." He climbed up next to the box and examined it. "What are you going to do next? She closed the window."

"I'll figure something out."

From the kitchen, Mrs. Fischer's voice was rising. "Yes, yes, that's what I said! No, I don't know how it got in… I suppose through the window. Well, it's my business if I have the damn window open, isn't it? Dirty strays shouldn't just wander in!" She sighed heavily. "Just come pick it up! No, I didn't! What if it has rabies of something?"

"Hurry!" said Arthur. He started pushing on the basket in the other direction.

"I don't know, Arthur; it's really heavy. I can't tell if it's going anywhere." Robert sounded miserable.

"Keep trying…"

"Yes. Yes, you have the address. Come right away. Fifteen minutes? Yes, I suppose that will do. Thank you." The phone was slammed back into its cradle. "Fucking idiots…" Her footsteps rang off the tile as she moved around in the kitchen, and Arthur and Robert renewed their efforts. "Hey, get down from there!" Mrs. Fischer shouted, marching back into the bathroom. She grabbed Robert around the middle and dropped him in the kitchen, closing the bathroom door. For a few minutes Arthur could hear him crying on the other side, then it was quiet again.

The silence stretched. Arthur didn't have any way of measuring the passing time. It could have been minutes or hours. He paced back and forth, trying not to think about Eames, trying to comfort himself when he couldn't stop himself with the fact that Eames was a hardy cat. He had taken falls before. He would be okay. Then he started breathing too fast and had to sit down. He had never considered himself to be a particularly _nervous_ cat, despite Eames's insistence that he was high-strung. He just preferred to be in control of his situation. Which, at the moment, he most certainly was not. His ears flicked back and he let out a soft, hopeless meow.

He almost jumped out of his skin when there was a loud bang on the door, his tail fluffing impressively. "Robert?" he yowled. "What's going on?"

"There's a man here," came Robert's soft reply. He sounded much subdued. Arthur hoped nothing had happened to him.

"Would you watch what you're doing?" Mrs. Fischer's shrill yell did nothing to ease the tension coiling down Arthur's spine. "What? No, not _you_ Maurice. Why would I be telling you to- No, the man from the cat place is here. Weren't you listening when I told you before- Well, it isn't my fault! Jesus, get a grip on yourself. I'll be back at the party in ten minutes, just as soon as that mangy animal is out of the house."

"Sorry about that," came a deeper voice, presumably that of the 'man from the cat place.' Arthur shuddered to think what that could mean. The bathroom door opened to reveal a short-ish figure with dark skin and what Arthur thought – from what he could see through the basket – dark curls. He was wearing jeans and a white coat. "I'll just see what we have, then." He stepped into the room. In his left hand he was holding a box. It was just about Arthur's size and it had bars on one end. Arthur hissed.

In the doorway, Robert started yowling again.

"It's going to be all right," said the man gently, and he knelt on the floor, putting the box off to the side. Suddenly Arthur could see his eyes clearly; they were clear and gray and they reminded Arthur of Eames. The man also had a strange pattern of whiskers on his face. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said.

"Like hell," Arthur replied, though he knew the man wouldn't get it. He backed into the corner of the basket.

The man closed the bathroom door behind him, giving a rather harried promise to Mrs. Fischer to be out of her hair shortly. He pulled on a pair of thick gloves and a face mask. "Don't worry," he said, muffled now. Everything's going to be fine." He moved the box of books off the basket and put it to the side. Then he lifted the basket.

Arthur streaked across the floor, though he wasn't quite sure where he was going. The window was shut securely. The door into the kitchen was also closed. Arthur tried to summon up his magic, but he had left his die at home in the piano – nothing happened. Although he tried fervently to spring the latch, his escape to the outside remained thoroughly thwarted.

The man was watching his circuit of the small room calmly; his face was obscured, but Arthur was skilled enough at human body language to read the relaxation in his frame. He stopped running and stood frozen, trembling, on the countertop by the sink. His mind was screaming at him to get away, any way he was able, but, huddling there in the stillness, he wanted to trust the man. He thought about Cobb, who had always been decent to him – bringing him food, letting his children play with Arthur… Some humans were nice. He couldn't explain it, but he thought this man was among them, those kind few…

"That's it," soothed the man, and Arthur wasn't really sure what happened, but he found himself inside the box with the bars and the door was closing and he was being lifted up and away. He cried out at the sensation of vertigo.

"Arthur," mewed Robert as the man took him in the box out into the kitchen. "Arthur, Arthur."

"Stop it," Mrs. Fischer snapped at him, hanging up the phone. She gave the man some money. He thanked her more kindly than she deserved and left the apartment, Arthur in tow.

-aaa-

Yusuf put Arthur on the floor of his van, making sure the carrier was secure and that it wouldn't move around too much. He hated how terrified the little cat's meowing sounded, but there wasn't a lot he could do about it. "It's all right," he said again, and closed the car door. He got behind the wheel and pulled out from behind the apartment building. It was another fifteen minutes back to Furry Friends Veterinary Clinic on the edge of the city and then he was taking Arthur out again, carrying him up the front steps and into the building.

"And who have we here?" Mal came out from her office to look at the cat carrier Yusuf was sliding onto the reception desk, setting her clipboard aside. She bent to peer through the door but didn't move within paw-range. "He's quite dashing! Look at that tie. A gentleman."

"I got a call from that harpy Fischer, Robert's owner," Yusuf chuckled. "Apparently she'd left her window open and this one invited himself in. He probably smelled something good, poor fellow."

"Mm. The winter is always so hard around here." She straightened. "Is he feral? I noticed he is still intact."

"I'm not sure." Yusuf stroked his goatee. "Probably. He doesn't seem to be as aggressive as most we get in, though." He shrugged. "He's still pretty wild, and I'm willing to bet scared. I'm going to put him in Room 36. It's free, right?"

"Yes. We've moved out the Jack Russell and scrubbed it down."

"Great. I'll let him calm down a bit and then see if I can't get him a check-up." He picked Arthur up again and took him down a short hallway before stepping into a small room. It had a tiled floor and was bare of furniture. There was a low, inset shelf on one wall with a folded towel on it for bedding. Yusuf deposited the carrier by the door and reached into his pocket, pulling out a stuffed mouse. He tossed into the corner. "You're going to be just fine," he said cheerfully, and opened the carrier door. Arthur stayed within, distrusting.

Yusuf went back into the hallway, closing the door. He checked his watch as he returned to the foyer. "Yikes. It's getting close to seven. I have to get back and prepare those slides for my seminar," Yusuf said. He looked up at Mal with puppy eyes. "You don't mind closing up, do you?"

She hesitated. "It is Philippa's birthday today," she hedged. "I was going to go home at eight, but I completely forgot about your class. I suppose I can call Dom."

"No, no that's all right." Yusuf shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. "I can nip back home and grab my laptop, and then you can-"

"Perhaps we can close early?" Mal suggested. "There are no more appointments today, and no emergency cases here."

Yusuf smiled. "Good idea. I hate being the only one here after nightfall, anyway. It's lonely."

"But you have all of the animals right nearby!" Mal teased. She picked up her clipboard again. "You go do your lesson plan. I will schedule an examination for that feral cat for tomorrow morning and close at eight."

"Thanks! I'll see you tomorrow. And say happy birthday to Phil for me."

"I will!" Mal gave him a little wave as he gathered his things and left for the night.

-aaa-

"Geez, what is the holdup?" Yusuf tried to peer around the car in front of him, but it was useless; he couldn't see anything but a long line of vehicles. He wondered if there had been an accident. It _had _started to snow again, and the roads were quickly gaining a coat of fluffy white. He sighed. It usually didn't take him nearly so long to get home from work. "Come on…" He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and glanced out the window.

A few feet ahead there was a side street that Yusuf knew would take him back to his house, albeit in a bit of time, but he had already wasted enough of it. Decision made, he switched on his blinker and turned when he was able. This road was pretty quiet for that time of night. He expected that others would soon be following his example and using it as a detour, though. He shook his head. The city really needed to do something about the congestion.

He was thinking so hard that he almost didn't see the cat as it stumbled into the road ahead of him. Luckily, he was driving slowly in the icy conditions. "Holy shit!" he cried, and stomped on the brake. He skidded to a halt shy of the small animal, glad again that there was no car behind him. "That was close…" He checked behind him again and then climbed out of the car.

The cat was a dark patch in the silvery powder gathered by the curb, but Yusuf could make out brown fur and the maroon matting of blood. "Oh God," he muttered, kneeling. The cat turned one gray eye on him and hissed weakly, baring slightly crooked but sharp teeth. "Hey, now…" Yusuf took out his cell phone, holding it up so that he could examine the cat by its light. By his best guess, the cat's right forepaw was broken, slivers of bone peeking out through his flesh. "That looks bad."

Yusuf glanced around again and then took off his coat, using it to scoop up the cat as gently as he could. He struggled only weakly, yowling, as Yusuf put him in the car, clearing out a box of papers for a temporary bed. "Don't worry," he said. "I don't know what happened to you, but I'm going to do my best to fix it." With that goal in mind, Yusuf got back behind the wheel and headed home, driving, perhaps, a little faster than he should.

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Reviews make me happy! DO IT.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry this took so long! It wasn't my intention, but I got distracted. XD

Disclaimer: I do not own Inception or Cats!

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"…_Merde._" Mal turned the key again, but there wasn't a sound from her truck, not even a sputter. She leaned back in her seat and sighed, running a hand over her face. This was such a pain… Not only was it pitch-black out and snowing steadily, but now her car wouldn't start. She flipped open her cell and dialed her husband at home. It rang twice before he picked up.

"_Hold on just one minute- James! James, put that- Philippa, take that away from your brother. No, put it on the table._" The sound became muffled and there was a click as he put the phone down. Fuzzily, Mal could hear Dom telling their children not to get into the decorative pinecones on the mantle. She smiled. In a few moments, Dom picked up again. "_Sorry. Hello?_"

"Hello, _mon cher_. It's me." Mal got out the truck as she was talking and locked it up, heading back to the clinic where she could wait in warmth. "My old Ford finally gave up the ghost."

"_Do you need me to come pick you up?_" he asked. "_I can come get you as soon as the casserole's done._"

"_Merci_, Dom. I'll have the truck looked at tomorrow." Mal unlocked the door and disarmed the warning system, stepping into the dark foyer and shutting out the cold. "Oh! Yusuf called on his way home. There's an accident on 35th, so you might want to go around the back on Wetherly."

"_Thanks for the heads-up, honey. I'll be there in about half an hour._"

"No, thank _you_, Dom. I love you."

"_Love you, too._"

Mal hung up and leaned back against the reception desk to wait.

-aaa-

The trip from the car to what looked to be a small house was characterized by warmth and then an icy cold and then warmth again. Eames closed his eyes, tired by the struggle to make sense of things. His paw and arm throbbed dully and he felt drained. He'd had a broken limb at least once before and he knew from the feel of it that it had happened again. That, and he could see his bones when he glanced down. Still, the pain wasn't debilitating – it had been the cold more than anything that had dropped him in the street on his way back to the junkyard for help – so, as soon as the opportunity presented itself, he would be taking his leave of his misguided Good Samaritan catnapper.

The man carried him in a box through the front door and down into the cellar, which was brightly lit and contained a desk and a few tables. Eames tried to look for escape routes, but the rocking motion of being carried and the heat generated by the substantial radiator were lulling him. He wondered if he was in shock.

Suddenly, he came to a halt. Eames blinked, realizing that the box had been set down on a low metal table. The man who had been carrying it had his back to Eames, so all he could make out was black hair and white clothes. He couldn't help letting out a pitiful mew when a particularly strong wave of pain went through his paw, though getting the attention of this stranger was the last thing he wanted. After all, it was getting caught by Robert's 'mother' that had caused this whole mess in the first place. He should have been more careful. He knew _firsthand_ what humans could do! Why hadn't he kept that in mind and sensibly stayed in the junkyard. At least then he could have protected Arthur.

Arthur_._

Arthur _was still in the apartment._ Yes, and Eames had been going to get Saito. He swished his tail angrily, trying to wake himself up. How many hours had since passed? Just thinking of that evil woman was stirring him up. What had she done to his darling by now? Eames hissed softly.

"I know, I know, but I'll just be a second more," came the surprisingly pleasant voice of the dark-haired man who had captured him. "I just need to fetch a few more things, that's all." He moved away, behind Eames, and started rummaging in a drawer. Eames noticed that already he had amassed a pile of odd-looking objects on the desk: a white roll that looked like heavy toilet paper, for one. There was also a tiny pair of gray scissors and a bottle of something with a label incomprehensible to Eames. It smacked of mischief.

"You don't seem like a bad guy," said Eames, though he still wasn't sure if this man wasn't going to experiment on him or some such thing. Flattery was a useful and often effective strategy. "You actually seem pretty nice. But I have someone I need to look out for, and I really have to be going." The man ignored him, as Eames knew he would, since humans were not intelligent enough to understand. Still, thanks paid and duty over, Eames stood up and walked to the edge of the table, cradling his injured paw to his chest.

The man must have heard something, because just as Eames was calculating his jump down, he let out a dismayed sound. "No, that's not good. Just sit for a few more minutes. I need to sterilize my instruments." He wrapped his large hands carefully around Eames's middle and picked him up. Eames did not appreciate this in the slightest, but when he started twisting, the only thing he managed to accomplish was to wake the bruises he had sustained from his fall, causing the rest of him besides his paw to ache fiercely.

"I can see you're a bit troublesome," said the man as he held Eames in place in the middle of the table. "And likely a stray. Here." He reached over to the desk and grabbed a syringe, which he quickly but gently stuck into Eames's shoulder. "Sleep. When you wake, you'll feel better."

"I don't want to feel better," Eames yowled, vision going fuzzy. "I want to find Arthur. Arthur…" Another moment and he closed his eyes and slept.

-aaa-

Arthur wished fervently that he'd had the foresight to bring his die with him to Robert's apartment, but he had always had the fear that it would get left there and he wouldn't be able to come back for it. It would have done him a world of good now, though. The lock on the door to his little room was impermeable from the inside, but with a dash of magic… He supposed it was useless to plan at this point. He'd just have to think of something in the morning when the woman or the cat-place-man came back. Somewhere, Eames was hurting, and Arthur couldn't just sit here cleaning his paws. He needed to get out.

Suddenly, there was the _chunk-click_ sound of the front door opening and the soft clack of the woman's heels on the floor. Arthur wondered if she'd left something inside (Ariadne was constantly forgetting her pencil or her ball when she went out) and had come to retrieve it. As she came further in, Arthur could hear some of the others who were trapped here with him shift themselves more awake and start talking. There was an Akita in the room across the hallway from him who started shouting to be let out as soon as the woman clacked her way to a halt. Arthur suppressed the urge to bristle.

"Hey!" shouted the Pollicle, standing up to brace his front paws on the glass window to his room. Arthur watched him with annoyance, tail swishing briefly back and forth. "Hey, lady! You can't keep me in here! I'm Johnny Appleseed, the right hand of Caesar! Hey!"

Arthur smirked. He had heard of Caesar, who was one of the gang leaders around the south side of the city. He had a reputation for being standoffish, prone to biting, and altogether unmanageable in territory disputes. He was also a Westie. A tiny little Westie. Arthur purred at the image of Appleseed (what a ridiculous name) taking orders from a dog half his size.

"What are _you_ laughing at?" barked Appleseed, hackles rising. "You're stuck in here, too. Though I suppose no one would miss a damn _cat."_

"Temper," said Arthur, crossing his paws. "And yes, I am also trapped, but I, unlike you, will find a way out." He had to believe that.

"There are only two ways out of this place; adoption or death," sniffed Appleseed, dropping his paws back to the floor to stand rather stiffly. It was apparent that the woman wasn't going to pay attention to him. "Either you get a family or you waste away trying."

This dismayed Arthur. He had no intention of following either path. "Hasn't anyone ever escaped?"

Appleseed opened his mouth to reply and then seemed to realize he was talking to a Jellicle. He narrowed his eyes and turned away, content to nose about at an old rope on the floor of his room. Arthur hissed in frustration.

"Look, you want to get back to Caesar, don't you? So tell me."

It took a few minutes, but Appleseed finally growled and came back to the window. "There's only one I've heard of. Her name was Biscuit. She was a Rhodesian Ridgeback who learned how to open the kennel door while she was here. But we don't have her, and we don't have anyone like her. It's useless."

"There must be some way…" But Appleseed had lost interest in the conversation, probably resigning himself to a lifetime inside. Arthur sighed and leapt down from his bed-ledge to have a drink of water from the bowl by the door. It was while he was lapping fitfully, grimacing at the metallic taste, that he heard the front door open again and heavier footsteps approach.

"Sorry I'm late," said a very familiar voice. Arthur went completely still. "I had to get Sandra over to watch the kids, and she was on the phone."

"That's fine, _mon cher_," said the woman cheerfully. "Just let me set the alarm and we can go. Thank you for coming up here; the snow's really starting to fall!" She walked across the floor again, but Arthur wasn't paying attention to her. No, he was much more focused on the other voice.

"I wasn't going to leave my wife alone in a veterinary clinic all night."

"No!" cried Arthur, his whole body vibrating. "It can't be." But it was! He was sure of it.

"You are the epitome of chivalry, Dom," said the woman. The woman who had to be Mallorie Cobb. The woman who was the wife of Dominic Cobb. The woman whose husband and children Arthur spent every noon with from spring to fall, sharing lunch and tales of his adventures around town.

"I'm getting out!" he declared triumphantly, ignoring Appleseed's derisive sneer. "I am getting out of here!"

He started to paw at the door, yowling to wake the dead.

-aaa-

"_What_ is that _noise?_" asked Cobb, raising an eyebrow as he picked up Mal's bag to be taken home. Over the ambient low barking and shuffling that he was accustomed to hearing on visiting Furry Friends, a strident, angry whining had started. "You have a possessed cat these days?"

"Ah, no. At least, not that I am aware of," Mal said, distracted. She left the alarm pad beside the front door open and took a few strides toward the back hallway which led to the animals' rooms.

Cobb sighed internally. They really ought to be getting home. As much as he cared for Mal's work – and he did – he was infinitely more interested in getting back to his children with her rather than checking on a bothered pet. The state of the roads was getting steadily worse as well.

"I think it's the new cat we got in today," she admitted. "I'll just be a minute. I need to make sure he's all right. He was fine earlier this evening." She reached around the reception desk and put on a pair of latex gloves before going to the temporary rooms. "Yusuf found him inside the apartment of one of our regular customers. Apparently he is a stray who wandered through the open window. That was clever of him, no? But we mustn't let it go on, of course." As she spoke, she turned on the hall light and peered through the glass into a small room on the left. Cobb came up behind her. "Are you all right, _mon petit?_ What is the matter?"

On the other side, scratching at the door, was a small black and white cat with a distinctive tie-shaped patch of fur on his chest. He looked up at Cobb with pleading brown eyes and yowled again.

"I know that cat!" Dom declared, surprise flooding through him. "Mal, this is the stray the kids and I usually see around the park during lunchtime. That's Gatsby. I'd recognize that tie anywhere."

"Gatsby?" Mal smiled at her husband. "You named him? That is adorable, Dom." She chuckled to herself as he blushed a bit and opened the door to the room, stepping inside. A quick examination to the now-quiet cat showed that he was as healthy as he'd been when he arrived. She looked around for another possible cause of distress, but couldn't find anything. Even Jordan, the excitable Akita in the next room, was still, resting his head on his paws. "I don't know what that was all about, but I think we can go now," she said finally.

-aaa-

"You know, I've been thinking…" It was cold in Cobb's car even though the heat was running at full blast. "Now that we have our own place, it might be nice to get the kids their first pet. What do you say?" His hand rested over Mal's between the seats as they sat at a stop light, alone on the slick, snowy road.

"I think we could probably manage that," she said, her soft lips curving. "Do you think James is old enough?"

"He's always really good when he plays with Gatsby in the park," Cobb explained. "He never pulls his tail or anything like that."

Mal let out a wonderfully vibrant laugh. "Dom, _mon cher_, _you_ are the one who wants to adopt that cat."

Cobb joined her in laughing. "I suppose. But he really is a nice animal. I've never met such a friendly cat. Do you think-? Well, I mean, is he up for adoption? The kids would love it. We could get him for Phil's birthday."

"That's certainly an idea. He's scheduled for a check-up tomorrow morning. How about I let you know then? I need to give him his shots and things."

"I like that plan," said Cobb. The light turned green and he pulled out into the street, heading for home.

-aaa-

Robert sat under the overhanging edge of the comforter in the apartment's master bedroom, scowling and whipping his tail back and forth. It was his fault that both Eames, who had stood by him for almost a year, and that Arthur, his new friend, were in this predicament. If he had been able to stop her… But he'd never tried, had he?

"There must be something I can do," he said. They had taken Arthur away to the vet's clinic, he knew. He had recognized the man that came with the carry-cage. But there was no way he could get there at this time of night. Surely the place would be closed, even if he could navigate the bewildering system of buses that ran across the city.

No. There was only one course of action available to him. He had to go to the junkyard. Saito would know what to do. Eames always described him as wise and fair, not to mention he was leader of the Jellicles, and thus had resources to spare. That would work.

He stood up from his crouch and darted out into the kitchen, slipping under the table without being noticed. Mother was sitting there on the phone, chattering away. In a few minutes, Father would be getting back from work.

It was then, when the man pushed open the door roughly with his shoulder, that Robert made his move, bolting out into the hallway and streaking to the stairway. He was going to do this, he told himself, filtering out the cries of his startled family.

He was going to get Arthur and Eames back.

* * *

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